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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"


He quickly lifted the girl's hands to his feverish lips. There he held
them for many minutes while he steadied his rioting senses, regaining
control of his nerves. He looked down upon the dark, soft hair and
worshiped. A red rose rested there. He bent over and kissed her hair--
and the rose.
Then she looked up.
"I do love you, David," she said softly, "are you--are you sure that
you--Oh, David, are you sure?"
For answer, his eager arm stole over her shoulder and she was drawn
close to his breast. She raised her lips to greet the kiss. Her little
hand clutched his with a sudden convulsive ecstasy. He felt the warm,
quick breathing--and then their lips met.
"I am very sure," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "There
never has been a minute in which I was not sure, Christine, my
darling."
"You have forgotten--you can overlook those old days when I was Little
Starbright?" she whispered wonderingly. "They will make no difference
--now?"
"I loved you then. You and I and my love have grown older and stronger
and dearer with the years that have--"
She broke away from him, putting her hands to her cheeks in pretty
confusion.


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